


Now that you’re here

by ylc



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But not much to be honest, Domestic Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, a bit of pining, everyone ships it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23811352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: After years of being friends, Jaskier moves in with Geralt, prompting everyone to assume they have finally sort themselves out. But not everything is as it seems.OrFive times someone thought Jaskier and Geralt had (finally) got their shit together and the one time they did
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 78
Kudos: 306





	1. Yennefer

**Author's Note:**

> So, I’ve been turning this little idea inside my head for a while now and I finally figured out how to write it. I think the format works well for what I have in mind, but I also feel like I have too many ideas for it so… we’ll see how it works out :P  
> Also, I just have two other WIPs and both are just missing a chapter, so I figured it was as a good time as any. And in these times, I think we can all do with a little humor ;)  
> I also feel obliged to point out that the characters listed don’t necessarily show up the whole time, just so you know.  
> Enjoy!

Geralt wakes up at dawn.

This isn’t, by any means, an uncommon occurrence. He’s usually up and about when it’s still dark outside, going for his morning run at what he’s been reliably informed it’s _unholy early._ He likes it that way: there’s less people out in the street and the crisp morning air does wonders for him. Sure, when he first moved into the neighborhood people called the police on him a few times because a man running down the street in the wee hours of the morning is a bit _suspicious,_ but by now they’re used to him so even if someone sees him, they don’t even blink.

Dawn is in fact a little late for him. He only sleeps late (late for his standards anyway) when he had a rough night and went to bed well past midnight or when he’s hungover. Then again, he hasn’t been properly drunk since his first semester of college, so--

Someone mumbles something against the back of his head and that’s when Geralt notices the arm wrapped possisevely around his middle. Ah, so it’s option number three: he has company, which ever since his divorce is such a rare occurrence that he had completely forgotten it was an option. 

He’s quite familiar with this particular embrace though and he’s also aware that escaping it won’t be an easy feat. Normally he’d have no qualms about waking Jaskier up (after all, he knew what he was getting into whenever he slipped into Geralt’s bed) but his friend has had a couple of rough weeks and Geralt figures he can cut him some slack.

Slowly, barely daring to breath, Geralt untangles Jaskier’s limbs from his. It’s not only the arm around his middle, but a leg thrown over his hip and the other hand holding tight onto Geralt’s shirt. It takes some effort and Geralt has lost practice, not having had to untangle himself from his friend in several years, but eventually he escapes Jaskier’s octopus-like grip.

Once free, he goes hunting for his workout gear and gets ready in silence, so well acquainted with where everything is that he has no trouble finding his way in the dark. From the bed he can hear the sound of Jaskier’s peaceful snores and a fond smile comes unbidden to his lips.

He’s know Jaskier since they were in kindergarten, when Geralt saved him for the first time from the boy that Jaskier called, even to this day, his _nemesis,_ one tall and heavy rascal named Valdo Max.

At the time, Geralt had been five, going six, a big boy ready to leave kindergarten. Jaskier, a three year old in his first year at school was a _baby_ as far as Geralt was concerned and he needed to be protected. They had become friends, sort of (Geralt found him a little annoying from time to time, but tried to be understanding because Jaskier was a baby and Geralt was a _big boy_ and he needed to be patient) but when Geralt had left for elementary school, he had thought that’d be the end of it, only to run into Jaskier two years latter, when the younger boy was a first grader and Geralt was in third grade. The age difference would push them apart for high school once again, but by then Geralt had figured he and Jaskier were in it for the long run.

He hadn’t been mistaken. Jaskier has been a constant in his life for far too many years now, their friendship resisting every bump on the road. They’ve been together through thick and thin: Jaskier’s parents messy divorce, his many break ups, Geralt’s slightly crazy high school years, his oddly friendly divorce, Ciri’s very complicated adoption process. Geralt isn’t entirely sure what he did to deserve a friend like Jaskier, but he’s thankful for him all the same.

True, once, a lifetime ago really, Geralt might have wanted more than friendship. But he quickly sort himself out, convincing himself that any chance of romance was not worth putting their friendship at risk and so he had shoved his messy feelings to the back of his mind, never to think about them again. Shortly after that he had met Yennefer and he had been even happier with his decision then: why risk the best relationship in his life when he could get the romance he was craving elsewhere?

And Yennefer had been-- well, he had loved Yennefer a great deal. He still does, in a way, but now it’s in a more friendly manner, rather than the passionate love they once shared. And of course she was the one who convinced him on adopting Ciri, which was clearly the best decision he’s ever made, so of course he’s also very thankful for his relationship with Yennefer.

He huffs, amused. Look at him, taking a trip down memory lane when he should be getting ready for his morning run. Looking in the direction of the bed then proves to be a terrible idea; despite the low light, the sight is terribly appealing and he’s half tempted to slip back into bed but--

 _No._ He’s going out for his morning run and that’s final.

Never mind how tempting his bed looks.

* * *

When he comes back, Jaskier is still asleep.

Geralt huffs, watching the other man sleep, looking extremely young like this. At some point in the last decade Jaskier just stopped ageing, which he insists is thanks to his very through moisturizing routine and that Yennefer says it’s bullshit, but the fact remains: Jaskier looks pretty much the same he did when they were freshly out of college.

Again, Geralt is half tempted to crawl back into bed and let Jaskier wrap his lean limbs all around him once more, but he reminds himself that he’s just gone for a run and he’s in serious need of a bath. Still, the image is too tempting and while he knows Jaskier will protest if he in fact got in bed while being all sweaty, he has a hard time convincing himself not to do exactly that.

It’s just-- well. You wouldn’t know it by just looking at Geralt, but he’s big on cuddling. Yennefer hadn’t been, which had worked for them in the sense that Geralt wasn’t tempted to linger in bed instead of doing his morning exercises, but Jaskier _is_. When they were in high school, Geralt spent many nights at Jaskier’s house, holding one another for sleep: it had been nice for several reasons even though Geralt’s heart had felt like it was going to burst half of the time. They carried on like that into their college years, which many of Jaskier’s partners (and some of Geralt’s, to be fair) had found odd but it was a thing they both enjoyed and it was strictly platonic, regardless of what others seemed to think and so they kept the habit right until Geralt married.

They still cuddled on the sofa, when Jaskier was over and they were watching a movie, which always made Yennefer roll her eyes, but she understood. It wasn’t a _romantic_ thing, it was a _friends_ thing and that was all.

And now that Jaskier is staying here…

Well. Technically speaking, the house does have a second room in which Jaskier could stay in, while he figures out what he’s going to do with his life now that his father has (officially) disowned him. But that room is also technically Ciri’s, even if she spends most of the week at Yennefer’s. It’d be rude, he thinks and he truly doesn’t mind Jaskier sleeping with him so--

It’s all for the best, truly.

* * *

The doorbell rings just as Geralt is finishing making breakfast. He does believe that a five year old like Ciri needs more than pancakes to survive, but since he only has her on the weekend, he figures he gets to indulge her tastes. Yennefer had glared at him when he had said as much, telling him she resented having to be the _not fun_ parent who makes them eat _healthy stuff_ but Geralt thinks she had been joking.

Of course you never know with Yennefer, but if she wasn’t fine with this, she would have let him know by now.

He goes to open the door, glancing at the wall clock distractedly. Yennefer is terrifyingly punctual and today is not the exception, of course. He had to forgo shaving thanks to his little lie in, but he did manage to be ready in time and he thinks he looks presentable enough.

It’s not the sort of thing most people worry about when meeting their exes, Geralt has been told, but Yennefer always looks impeccable and dashing, so he’d rather not look too shabby when they meet.

“Dad!” Ciri yells, throwing her arms around him and squeezing with all her might. Geralt smiles at her, picking her up once she lets go and she squeals, delighted.

“Hello, my little cub,” he greets her, rubbing their noses together. “Hello Yennefer,” he says, turning his attention to the woman, who’s watching them with fond amusement. “Are you staying for breakfast?” he asks, although he knows she is. It’s their long standing weekend tradition and while Geralt is aware most people aren’t this friendly with their exes, he thinks of Yennefer more as a friend than as his ex wife.

Yennefer hums, following them in. Geralt sits Ciri down and starts passing the pancakes out. “Don’t you think you exaggerated?” Yennefer asks, serving Ciri a couple and placing another two on her own plate. There are in fact several pancakes on the plate still, but Geralt made them for Jaskier, knowing he’ll show up at some point.

Before he can open his mouth to tell her that though, a loud sound comes from the bedroom, followed by a groan. Jaskier has always been a bit clumsy when getting out of bed, mostly because he always manages to get himself tangled up with the sheets. Yennefer and Ciri startle at the sound and the first throws a dark look in his direction, but before Geralt can puzzle out what he did to earn himself Yennefer’s annoyance, Jaskier stumbles out of the room and into the kitchen.

“Oh, good morning,” the younger man greets, blushing a little when he notices they’re not alone. Jaskier detests sleepwear, claiming it’s bad enough he must be dressed during the day (regardless of his love for fashion) and so more often than not he sleeps with only his underwear which of course doesn’t bother Geralt but considering their present company--

Yeah, they’ll need to figure that out.

“Uncle Jask!” Ciri exclaims, delighted, forgoing breakfast in favor of throwing herself at her godfather's arms. Jaskier stumbles a little with her weight, but he recovers quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Well, well, well,” Yennefer says, smiling like the cat that got the cream. “Good morning to you, Jaskier. What a lovely surprise to find you here.” She looks at Geralt, looking positively delighted. “Is this a recent development or have you been holding out on me, Geralt?”

Geralt frowns. “Recent,” he answers, honest. “It’s just been a week.”

“Ah,” Yennefer says, still smiling in that concerning way of hers. She seems entirely too happy at Jaskier’s presence and while she hadn’t minded him before, often including him in their family activities in fact, Geralt doesn’t understand why she seems so delighted at the fact that Jaskier is living temporarily with him.

But he does know better than to ask and so he busies himself with breakfast, ignoring the knowing looks Yennefer keeps throwing in his direction. As usual, Yennefer and Jaskier’s talk turns into bickering, both enjoying ribbing the other for some reason and Geralt is happy to ignore them in favor of talking to Ciri, who’s all too happy to have all his attention for herself, ranting over her week at school, her classmates, her teacher and her _mountains and mountains of homework._

Through it all, Geralt smiles, feeling content.

Today’s been a great day so far.

* * *

Yennefer leaves shortly before midday, after reminding Ciri to behave and listen to her father. Ciri ignores them both in favour of playing with uncle Jask who’s an amazing tea party’s guest apparently, and they both roll their eyes fondly at her.

“We’ll be fine,” Geralt assures her once they’re standing at the door. “I won’t let them out of my sight.”

Yennefer hums, amusement dancing in her eyes. The thing is, Ciri adores Jaskier, mostly because he lets her get away with a lot, often indulging her in whatever crazy plan she comes up with and sometimes they can get a little carried away, landing themselves in trouble of some kind.

Geralt has always thought that Ciri’s penchant for mischief is mostly Jaskier’s fault. After all, he always was a magnet for trouble, never very worried about consequences because he knew Geralt would be there to save the day if needed.

That of course remains true, for both Jaskier and Ciri: if either gets in trouble, Geralt is always willing to help them sort it out.

“You do that,” Yennefer agrees, pating his shoulder compationatelly. She hesitates for a beat, as if thinking about something and Geralt frowns, confused, trying to remember if there’s something else they needed to discuss. Nothing comes up, no matter how hard he thinks about it and so-- “Listen Geralt, I-- I just wanted to say… I’m happy for you.” She says finally, very quickly, as if already regretting her words. Yennefer has never been the kind of person who talks about _feelings_ or personal matters really. She’s efficient, only saying exactly what’s needed, not sharing her thoughts on most matters, not unless she thinks it’s strictly necessary.

Which of course just makes her statement much more puzzling. “Thank you?” Geralt offers, completely at lost of what he ought to say. What does that even mean?

Yennefer huffs. “I just meant-- It had a long time coming. And I’m glad it finally happened,” she seems to consider her next words, before nodding once to herself. “You deserve happiness.”

“Alright?” Geralt says, still completely at lost but figuring it’s better not to ask. One of the reasons why he and Yennefer worked so well (or maybe one of the reasons why they didn’t work out in the end) is because neither is a big fan of this communication business, relying on their mutual understanding of one another to avoid conflict. To ask what she means might only annoy her and the last thing he wants is to argue right now, so he lets the matter go.

Yennefer smiles at him once more, winking before turning around and leaving, still looking weirdy content. “Good luck!” she calls, half turning to him and giving him thumbs up for some reason. “You and Jaskier will be fine!”

 _Yes, they will_ but Geralt can’t help feeling like he’s missing something. Then again, this whole interaction was too weird for Geralt to try to make sense of that particular phrase.

He shrugs, deciding not to worry about it.

Communication is overrated, really.


	2. Renfri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! That was quick, wasn’t it?  
> Work’s been super slow, so I’ve had a lot of time to write, although I expect that’ll change soonish. In the meantime, I’ll try to update as quick as possible ;)  
> Enjoy!

The door opens with a bang, forcing Geralt to look up from his phone. Around him, the rest of the room has gone deadly quiet, the rest of his co workers watching the newcomer with wide eyes, most of them recoiling in their seats. Geralt stares for a beat, before going back to his lunch, unconcerned with Renfri’s mood.

“Difficult class?” he asks once the woman has dropped herself on the chair in front of him. Renfri huffs, pushing a stray lock of her hair away from her face, glaring at nothing in particular.

“You’re so lucky you get the freshmen,” Renfri says, stealing a piece of Geralt’s bread and he glares at her, although there’s no real heat in it. “Seniors are the worst,” she says, chewing on the stolen bread a little too forcefully, looking oddly threatening.

He hums. “They can’t be worse than you at their age,” he points out and Renfri scoffs, stealing the rest of his bread in vengeance. 

“I was a perfectly agreeable youngster,” she says and Geralt, who actually knew her when she was seventeen, can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, despite knowing he’ll be punished for it. “I was!” Renfri exclaims, shoving him playfully, which just makes him laugh some more. “No one could ever prove otherwise!” she continues proudly.

“That’s different,” Geralt points out. “And not for lack of trying.”

Renfri smirks, leaning back on her seat. “That’s the difference between me and my students, Geralt. I know how to cover my tracks,” she proclaims proudly and Geralt rolls his eyes at her, deciding that focusing on his lunch is on his best interests, otherwise Renfri will try to steal the rest. 

“Where has the time gone?” Renfri continues wistfully, resting her elbows against the table, cradling her face between her palms. “It seems like it was just yesterday when we stole Stregobor’s car keys, remember?”

Geralt tries his best not to laugh at the memory, but he’s not very successful, nearly choking in his attempt to keep quiet. The rest of his co workers are eying him oddly, although by now you’d think they know that Geralt’s impassive and unapproachable facade is just that: a facade.

“He was sitting at the parking lot for hours,” he remembers fondly. “Even when it started raining, he just sat there and glared at the door.”

Renfri laughs, throwing her head back. “He deserved it,” she sentences finally and Geralt nods, because he did. Stregobor was out to get Renfri since forever and Renfri and her merry band of friends made sure he paid for it.

Geralt smiles, remembering his years as a highschooler. He had been a freshman himself when he first met Renfri, while she had been a senior. He remembers seeing her for the first time, dismounting her motorbike, her hair messy due the helmet, wearing a fitted pair of jeans and a leather jacket, she had looked absolutely badass. She had also been Geralt’s first crush, although he imagines no one could have blame him: Renfri is stupidly pretty and a total rebel, the perfect woman according to fourteen-year-old Geralt. Of course Renfri hadn’t given him the time of the day (not like that, anyway), but they had ended up becoming friends when he joined her in her crusade to make Principal Stregobor’s life a living hell.

The man had deserved it, certainly. He was a total creep for starters, often yelling at people and harassing students and staff alike. He also held a personal grudge against Renfri for reasons unknown (Renfri had mentioned once her step mother might have been involved somehow, but Geralt had never got the rest of the story) and after four years, said grudge had became a true war, with Renfri and her friends causing as much mischief as possible. No one could ever prove she was behind any of the pranks, of course and so while Stregobor wanted her expelled, he never managed to find a reason to.

And of course when Renfri graduated, Geralt had been happy to continue with said war against the Principal. Hence Geralt’s constant visits to the Principal’s office and Vesemir’s constants complains about them, since he wasn’t quite as good at getting away with things as Renfri had been. It had only got worse when Jaskier joined him a year later, since the younger man was always happy to tag along and that’s probably one of the reasons Jaskier’s parents don’t like Geralt that much.

Despite this, Geralt doesn’t think he was a particularly rebellious teen, although he knows Vesemir would beg to differ, but in truth Geralt had been a good student, most of his teachers liking him.

“Do you think it’s ironic that we ended up as high school teachers, all things considered?” he asks, watching as Renfri takes out her own lunch, wondering if he can get away with stealing something from her. Renfri huffs, shaking her head. “Do any of your students know of your wild past?”

“I should hope so!” Renfri states, biting down on an apple. “I was a bloody legend. I was the Thief Princess!” Geralt never quite learned where the nickname came from, although Renfri did do her fair share of stealing stuff from Stregobor, even if she always gave it back once it had served its purpose, like the car keys. “I don’t think your students imagine you, Mr. Grumpy, were a rebel once upon a time.”

Geralt hums in acknowledgement, stealing Renfri’s other apple. He doesn’t like apples that much, but it’s the principle of the thing: she stole his bread, he gets to steal something from her lunch.

It’s just bad luck that Renfri’s lunch is usually so unappealing. Maybe that’s why she steals Geralt’s, now that he thinks about it.

“You want to know what’s ironic?” Renfri says, smirking lightly. “That you went and married our Headmistress.”

“Yennefer wasn’t the Headmistress back then,” Geralt feels obliged to point out. He’s not entirely sure how Yennefer ended up as Headmistress, considering she used to work for some big name politician, but she hadn’t wanted to go into details when it had happened and Geralt was not one to pry.

Renfri hums. “To be totally honest, I always thought that if you got around settling down, it’d be with the little lark,” she tells him as he takes out the rest of his lunch. “You make such a cute couple.”

Geralt huffs. Back when Geralt met Yennefer, Jaskier had been busy sleeping with everyone in town who’d have him. Besides, Jaskier isn’t the settling down type, so the point is moot. Regardless of Geralt’s feelings on the matter, it was never meant to be.

Just then the room’s door opens once more and Yennefer strolls in. She looks around the room briefly before her eyes land on Renfri and she approaches them with firm steps.

“Always a troublemaker,” Geralt teases and Renfri throws a quick glare in his direction, before turning her best innocent smile on Yennefer.

“Hey, Yen. Can we help you with anything?” she asks, batting her eyelashes playfully and Yennefer rolls her eyes dramatically, before taking a seat in front of her. Geralt ponders the pros and cons of escaping, but he hasn’t finished his lunch and he doesn’t feel like sitting with the other teachers.

“I don’t know why I even bother,” Yennefer says after a staring match against Renfri, which she never had any hope of winning, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re not going to listen to me anyway.”

“That’s unfair,” Renfri protests with a smirk. “I always listen to you.”

Yennefer huffs, eyes shining with mischief, betraying her amusement at Renfri’s antics. The older woman knows it and so she grins some more, knowing she’s won without even trying.

Geralt continues eating his lunch and Renfri attempts to steal a bite, but the good thing about meatballs is that they’re hard to steal. Renfri pouts, turning her puppy eyes on Geralt and of course he relents, lending her another fork so she can try them.

“I thought your culinary skills were limited to pancakes and sandwiches,” Renfri comments between bites. “These are homemade, not like the crap you usually buy.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Jaskier made them.” Which is one of the positive things about having the other man around: he has yet to figure out what he wants to do with the rest of his life, but for now he’s happy to look after Geralt, making sure he eats properly.

Not that Geralt needs looking after, mind. Still--

Renfri arches an eyebrow, evidently not satisfied with his answer, but before he can add anything else, Yennefer intervenes. “Oh, hasn’t he told you?” she asks in a sing song tone, smirking like a Cheshire cat. “They’re living together.”

“Oh?” Renfri says, distracted by the food and then she catches Yennefer’s gaze and her eyes go very wide. “Oh!” she exclaims, before hitting Geralt’s shoulder playfully. “You hadn’t told me! That’s not very nice, Geralt. Friends tell each other these type of things.”

Geralt frowns, confused, watching Yennefer’s smirk from the corner of his eye. He honestly doesn’t understand why they seem so _enthusiastic_ about the idea of Jaskier living with him for the time being. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It wasn’t-- that’s not-- well, I suppose it had a long time coming--”

“I thought that too,” Yennefer agrees. “But he’s been very secretive all the same.” She offers Geralt a sarcastic smile and Geralt frowns, growing more confused by the minute.

The women share a laugh and Geralt decides he’d rather not know what they’re going on about. He doesn’t understand them, but when has he ever? He’s not terribly good at social interaction and so he often misses some social cues, which he imagines must be the case in this instance. He doesn’t feel like asking though and so he lets the matter go for now.

He looks at Yennefer and Renfri, who have moved onto some other subject. Jaskier used to tease him about having such a specific type: pretty, brunette and murderous. He understands both Renfri and Yennefer give off very scary vibes, but both are really kind hearted and wouldn’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.

He finds himself thinking of Jaskier once more, a small smile on his lips as he finishes his lunch. He does have a type, he supposes. Pretty, brunette and with a heart of gold underneath. He thinks Jaskier would deny it, but he’s also very kind

 _Not meant to be too,_ he thinks to himself mournfully. Renfri was never more than a friend and he might have married Yennefer, but they both knew it was never meant to last even if they both had been scared to admit it. As for Jaskier--

Well, it goes without saying, doesn’t it?

* * *

“Geralt!” a cheerful voice calls for him just as Geralt exits the building. It draws the attention of several students, who happily turn to whisper to one another and Geralt scowls at nothing in particular. Renfri snickers, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Seems you’ve got company,” the woman tells him pleasantly. “Go see your man, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she exclaims, already making her way towards the parking lot, waving at Jaskier cheerfully when she passes him by.

Geralt huffs, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his gut at Renfri’s careless words, making his way towards Jaskier, who’s standing at the school’s entrance, dressed in an outfit so colorful it hurts to look at.

“Jaskier,” he greets, surveying his friend critically. They must look an odd pair: Geralt dressed in leather trousers and loose shirt, all in black and Jaskier wearing… well, whatever he’s wearing.

His friend grins, completely unbothered by all the attention they’re drawing. Geralt sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, right!” Jaskier exclaims cheerfully, clutching his lute case in front of him and Geralt makes a face, knowing what’s coming. “I have a gig! So I was thinking we could go grab something to eat and then you could drive me to the bar?” he bats his eyelashes coquettishly, which Geralt knows not to take seriously, but that work on him all the same.

“Fine,” he says, tone longsuffering, but Jaskier brightens up immediately, linking his arm with Geralt’s.

“There’s no reason for you to be this grumpy,” Jaskier points out, starting to walk in the general direction of the parking lot. “You’re in for a treat, Geralt! I have a new song--”

Geralt hums, half listening as the other man rambles about his composing process. He’s heard that particular ramble far too many times by now, so he knows he’s not missing anything. He focuses instead on the feeling of Jaskier pressed against his side, talking a mile per minute, grinning happily. Music is Jaskier’s passion, even if no one understands it.

Geralt doesn’t understand, not really, but he’s happy to let Jaskier ramble to his heart’s content.

“Oh Geralt, please tell me you brought your car and not that death machine you’re so fond of.”

“Roach isn’t a death machine,” Geralt protests, giving his motorbike a little pat. “She’s perfectly safe to ride.”

“If she is, why don’t you let Ciri ride her, huh?” Jaskier asks, taking the second helmet Geralt always keeps with him, climbing onto it after Geralt, holding onto his waist with a little too much strength. “I’m beginning to regret this.”

“You should have checked the garage before coming, if you’re so opposed,” Geralt points out and he can’t see Jaskier, of course, but he imagines he’s pouting. He smiles.“Hold on tight,” he orders and Jaskier huffs, but complies, resting his cheek against Geralt’s back.

Generally speaking, Geralt does prefer to ride Roach around the city, rather than drive.

But he likes it even more when Jaskier clinging onto him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I wanted to go a bit more in deep with Renfri and Geralt’s backstory in this, but it doesn’t really work with the format. I originally wanted to write a high school AU when I started this, but then I realized that’d be way too long and I’m not sure I have the time or the commitment for something of that magnitude, but this seemed like a good compromise.  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!


	3. Triss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! It went a little different than I originall intended… but it works, I think :P  
> Enjoy!

“Prom night,” Yennefer declares, writing the words in big letters on the whiteboard in the teachers’ room. The rest of the teachers groan, but Geralt refrains from such dramatics. “Who wants to chaperone?”

Every year the same people do, so Geralt wonders why Yen even bothers anymore. Chaperoning a bunch of teenagers with very little common sense and who are, generally speaking, hormone-driven, is not fun at all and so it’s not a thing anyone actually  _ wants.  _ But usually you can rope people into cooperating, mostly by threatening them with something embarrassing or occasionally promising some special permission to be used at a later date.

In any case, it’s usually him and Renfri on chaperone duty.

He suspects Renfri actually enjoys it: her last chance to infuse fear into the heart of her students before they leave for good. It’s functional: Renfri students are still so afraid of her that her presence is enough to discourage most from doing anything foolish. Geralt’s presence serves the same purpose: even if he was their teacher just for the first year, everyone remains terrified of him.

He scowls, thinking. That might not be true anymore, now that he thinks about it. And it’s all Jaskier’s fault, obviously.

The younger man has taken up to showing at school after classes are over, clinging to Geralt at any given chance. It has completely ruined Geralt’s reputation, of course: it’s hard to look intimidating when Jaskier is draped across his back, smiling like a maniac, without getting as much as a glare from Geralt despite his antics.

According to rumor mill, Geralt has  _ softened  _ thanks to his new  _ boyfriend  _ (except of course Jaskier isn’t his boyfriend, but he’s not going to tell his students that. They know enough of his personal life as it is). It was different back when people knew he was married to Yennefer: she is intimidating as fuck, so there’s no reason to believe Geralt had gone  _ soft.  _ Still, as stated before, it’s hard to be intimidating when you’re (not really) dating the human embodiment of a golden retriever.

Geralt does his best not to sigh dramatically, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling vaguely annoyed. He  _ loves  _ Jaskier, he really does, but he’s terrible for his reputation.

Of course Jaskier isn’t really as harmless as he looks, nor as  _ friendly.  _ He’s an expert on tearing people to shreds with just his words, a master of sarcasm and back handed compliments and of he goes  _ absolutely feral  _ when he thinks anyone is being unfair to Geralt, but of course Geralt’s students are unlikely to witness that particular facet of him.

“Are you thinking how much harder it’s going to be to keep students in line when they’re not terrified of you?” Renfri asks, smirking playfully and Geralt glares. “You have no one to blame but yourself, Geralt. We all love the little lark, but he doesn’t help to keep our badass reputations.”

Geralt scoffs, which makes Renfri laugh, which makes Yennefer glare at them. They hurry to smooth down their expressions, pretending they didn’t disrupt Yennefer’s very important talk, although they both know the Headmistress isn’t buying it.

Geralt will not be even the slightest bit surprised if Yennefer puts them in clean duty thanks to that.

Oh well, nothing for it.

* * *

He finds Jaskier outside the school’s gate, as it’s common nowadays. He’s also playing his guitar, which is also not unusual and he’s surrounded by a group of teenagers giggling. Geralt scowls at nothing in particular, annoyed although not overly so: Jaskier is a very good musician, although Geralt has never told him as much and he deserves all the admiration he gets, but these are Geralt’s students and the last thing he needs it’s them fawning over his (supposed) boyfriend.

Jaskier grins as he watches him approach, which prompts a few teens to look in his direction, which just makes them giggle harder before turning to one another, exchanging excited whispers. Geralt’s scowl deepens and then he notices the song Jaskier is singing and he scowls some more.

Jaskier laughs, breaking off his playing, apologizing half heartedly when the teens protest. “I apologize, my lovely audience, but Mr. Rivia here does not approve of that particular song.” He grins some more as Geralt huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s not that he doesn’t approve, not exactly. It’s just-- well. Jaskier wrote that particular song  _ for Geralt  _ and even after all these years, Geralt isn’t sure what to make of it. It sounds like a love song, except that’s not it, because it’s not like that between them and yet--

Jaskier grins, unrepented and swings his guitar behind himself, so he’s free to step into Geralt’s personal space and throw his arms around his neck. Geralt growls, unhappy, shoving him away because that’s inappropriate and Jaskier just laughs some more. Around them, the students are still gossiping among themselves and when Geralt glares at them, they don’t hurry to scatter, as they usually do, but hold their ground instead, smiling at him.

God, this is awful.

And it’s all Jaskier’s fault, obviously.

“Let’s go,” he says gruffly, grabbing Jaskier by the elbow and starting to pull him in the direction of the parking lot, ignoring the whispers that follow them.

“Really Geralt, you’re always so grouchy,” Jaskier teases, smiling brightly. “No wonder your students call you Mr. Grumpy. Must I always fix your reputation?”

“Don’t you dare,” Geralt hisses, because he’s all too aware of what  _ fixing his reputation  _ entails. He’s been teaching at this school for almost a decade and his students know only the bare essentials about him and he intends to keep it that way.

Jaskier tsks, but his grin gives away the fact that he’s just teasing. Geralt growls at him once more, although there’s no real heat in it and Jaskier laughs once again, escaping his hold and grabbing Geralt’s hand instead.

Oh, Geralt can already imagine the gossip.

Jaskier has always been touchy and they’ve always behaved a little couple-y because of that and it’s not like Geralt is inclined to explain to anyone that this isn’t what it looks like, so he supposes he’ll have to resign himself to listening to his students gossip about his (absolutely fake) love life.

Oh, joy.

* * *

Since Geralt is often roped into chaperoning duty and Yennefer needs to be at school too, Jaskier is often stuck on babysitting duty on prom night. While technically Geralt supposes he could ask his brothers, he’s always been much more comfortable leaving Ciri with Jaskier: even if they both are a menace, he likes to think Jaskier is responsible enough to not burn the house down while Geralt isn’t around to do something about it. The same can not be said about Eskel or, even worse, Lambert. As for Yen’s sisters…

Well. Triss would be the best option, seeing she’s actually a pediatrician, but she’s usually busy at the hospital and Geralt would hate to bother her. As for Sabrina, even Geralt is intimidated by her and he has yet to find out what happened with Frigilla since no one is talking to her anymore apparently, but she’s definitely out of the question.

So Jaskier it is.

Besides, he’s still living with him, so it’s not like he’s inconveniencing him in any way.

“You’ll be fine?” he asks, standing at the door, listening to Ciri coming and going from her room and into the living room. Apparently, they’re having a tea party and all her plushies are invited.

And the girl has a ridiculous amount of plushies, so Geralt imagines cleaning up won’t be an easy task.

“We’ll be fine,” Jaskier assures him, smiling charmingly. “Now go. You got some students to put the fear of god into.”

Geralt huffs. “Which is much more complicated now, all thanks to you.”

Jaskier has the gall to grin. “You’re welcome!” he exclaims merrily, shoving him out of the door. Geralt glares, but absteins himself from actually saying anything and he leaves, waving goodbye at Ciri who’s watching him go through the window. Ciri smiles, waving back along with her favorite plushie: a lion cub that just a year ago was almost as big as her.

Times flies, Geralt reflects as he climbs into his car, smiling a little. It seems like it was just yesterday when he got the call from the adoption agency, letting him know everything was in order and so he could (finally) go pick Ciri up definitely.

Where has time gone, really?

* * *

Geralt groans, examining his flat tire. He doesn’t think it was intentional, but there are pieces of broken glass all across the parking lot and he supposes one must have got caught in his tire when he first came in and by the time he’s ready to leave, most of the air has escaped.

He huffs, annoyed. When he helped Jaskier move (temporarily) into his house, he had taken out his spare tire to make more space, telling himself he’d put it back as soon as they were done. Somehow he managed to forget to do so for the last few months and while he’s been driving for over fifteen years and he’s never needed a spare tire, it figures that the one time he forgets to carry one is when he does.

“Car trouble?” Yenn asks through her own car’s window, smirking when Geralt glares at her. “Well, hope in. Nothing to do about it until tomorrow.”

Geralt sighs, figuring she’s right and so he does get in Yenn’s car. It’s a ridiculously fancy car that Geralt never feels comfortable traveling in, all too aware of how every little bit inside is worth more than his month’s salary. How Yenn affords it is something he doesn’t know and doesn’t particularly care to learn.

They travel in silence, both too tired to say much. Herding unruly teenagers doesn’t get any easier and on prom night most are often a real nuisance: since most threats no longer work, students tend to get rebellious and even Geralt’s most menacing stares do little, especially now that the students are convinced he’s not as intimidating as he looks.

He’ll have to talk to Jaskier. He definitely can’t be showing up next semester, when Geralt will have a new group of freshmen to herd.

“Is that Triss’ car?” Yennefer asks just as they turn around the corner, close to Geralt’s house. “ _ Fuck,” _ Yennefer curses softly and Geralt is thinking along the same lines. None of them bother Triss unless it’s strictly necessary, so if Jaskier called her…

Geralt stops himself from completing that thought. Panicking will do him no favours at all: he needs a clear head to face whatever is to come.

He and Yenn storm into the house, both having completely forgotten all about their tiredness, looking for any sign of trouble. They find Triss sitting at the living room, laughing at something Jaskier has just said and the doctor arches an eyebrow at them after catching sight of their panicked stances.

“She’s fine,” Triss tells them, leaning back on her seat. “Do you think me such a terrible aunt that I wouldn’t call you if Ciri was seriously hurt?”

Geralt relaxes immediately and from the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Yennefer doing the same. He turns to Jaskier, who offers him a sheepish smile. “I put her to bed an hour ago,” Jaskier says. “I know it’s late, but Triss said it was better if we waited for a bit before letting her sleep.”

“So something  _ did _ happen,” Yennefer says, going to sit by Triss’ side, gesturing for her to budge over. Triss doesn’t, to be contrary mostly, earning herself a roll of eyes from Yennefer who then proceeds to sit on top of her until Triss finally moves.

It’s been over ten years since Geralt first met those two and yet some things never change. Then again, he’s all too aware of how annoying little siblings can be, so he says nothing. 

Jaskier chuckles at the women’s attics, before standing up. “I’ll let Triss fill you in and I’ll go make some more coffee.”

“Don’t run, lark!” Yennefer calls. “I promise I won’t murder you!” she continues cheerily and Jaskier yelps, escaping towards the kitchen. They’re both playing, of course, trying to defuse the tension because Ciri might be fine (according to Triss’ words) but they still don’t know what happened.

“She’s fine,” Triss insists, patting Yennefer’s knee. “She fell and grazed her forehead with the edge of the table. And you know head wounds bleed like crazy so… Jaskier might have panicked a little.”

“And yet he didn’t call us,” Yennefer says sourly.

“Oh, well. I love you sis, but you’re a little…” She trails off, Yennefer’s meanincing glare having something to do with it, no doubt. “You’d have been panicking yourself and acted a little irrationally.”

“Well, I’ve never,” Yenn says and Geralt snorts, which of course earns him a glare. “Watch it,” she warns and Geralt holds back a chuckle. “You’re sure Ciri is fine?” Yenn asks, turning her attention back to her sister.

“Oh, yes, perfectly fine,” Triss answers with a wave of her hand. “She cried a little, as expected, but I think she was just scared.” She shrugs non committedly. “She’ll be fine as rain come tomorrow morning.”

“So, who wants coffee?” Jaskier asks, having reappeared, smiling a little too forcibly. It’s clear to Geralt that he feels guilty as hell, but he knows better than to say something.

“Not me,” Yenn announces, standing up and smoothing down her dress. “It’s that instant crap you drink, isn’t it?”

“I’ll have you know--” Jaskier starts because of course that now they know Ciri is perfectly fine, those two are going to start bickering.

“There’ll be no coffee for nobody,” Geralt announces, pulling Jaskier close, throwing a warning look in his direction. “It’s been a long day and we all need to sleep.”

Yenn huffs and Triss chuckles, shaking her head at her sister’s attics. “Well, we’ll be leaving you to your sleep, then,” she says, standing up and locking arms with Yennefer. “Let’s go sis, we better leave these two love birds. Despite how calmly you’re taking it all, there are certain things no ex wife needs to hear.”

“Oh, fuck Triss! Did you have to say that?!” Yennefer exclaims while Geralt frowns. That-- that seems to imply there’s something else going on here and that’s not--

“We really must be going,” Triss says, smiling. “By the way Geralt, it was high time you did something,” she adds, waving them goodbye and hurrying towards the door before either Geralt or Jaskier can add anything else.

“Did they just-- did Triss implied we’re sleeping together?” Jaskier asks, watching the women through the window, looking like he’s very seriously thinking about something. “Huh. Guess that explains all the stuff she said.”

“What stuff?” Geralt asks tiredly. People have been confusing him and Jaskier for a couple since forever, so neither really cares when it happens  _ again  _ although it’s a bit odd coming from his ex’s sister.

“Oh, well, you know. She asked how I was adapting, if things were working out, if I had finally got you to use your big boy words… Saying I looked happier than ever before,” Jaskier huffs, shaking his head. He’s smiling, but he looks… sad, somehow. “You know, nothing we haven’t heard before.”

Geralt hums. “Yenn must have told her you were living here and she sort of… you know.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier agrees softly, before yawning dramatically. “Well, you know how it is. We’d make a great couple,” he grins, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“You think?” Geralt asks and he’s teasing, he thinks, although it feels-- weird. They’ve never really discussed what their relationship is, never  _ questioned  _ the way they act around one another and Geralt doesn’t think he wants to start, not really.

Jaskier hums, but doesn’t answer. He smiles at Geralt, patting his arm before yawning dramatically once more. “Well, I’m really beat. I’m off to bed,” Jaskier announces, yawning again. “Goodnight Geralt.”

Geralt hums. “ I’ll be with you in a sec,” he says, heading for Ciri’s room, figuring he should check on her. He finds her deeply asleep, hugging her lion plushie and he smiles softly, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, where Triss put a little Band Aid.

He yawns, his tiredness finally catching up with him.

Well, it seems it’s really time to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I intended for us to spend more time with Triss, but it just wasn’t working out :( Let me know what you thought!  
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, feel free to point them out!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)


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